Where Are We Headed Poem by THEODORE MOSLEY

WHERE ARE WE HEADED
The footnotes of the fields have taught us nothing as we wake up in the dawn of the morning.
We were a people of kings and queens and our heritage was our proclamation of time.
Forsaken in time we bled on the fields of cotton and on the monastery of waves of distant lands.
Where are we headed when we occupy the time of death as we would occupy the time of life?
Death becomes us when our freedom is involuntary freed within the hands of another.
Searching for lies when the truth is known, their escape plan coincide with rhetoric of togetherness.
Sifted within the community of blackness, the stranger contains our mind with his uniform of protection.
Where are we headed when our nights are controlled with the Third Reich of our freedom from nature?
Orchestrated for humanity, we are now choreographed for picket signs that stole our ways in Selma.
On the culture of our beings we convey our feelings on our emotions and the flames of life burns within.
Sensing the attitude of separation, we abuse the life we live with confusion of justice without tranquility.
Where are we headed with the sound of the blaze and the heat of our eyes propelling death for equality?
Armed with the attitude of righteousness, we harbor the nights with coalitions of racism for our brother.
The concentration camps of our monologues are hidden agendas for smooth criminals in the night.
Looking for creation to hear us, we obstruct the days with confiscations of unearned prosperity.
Where are we headed when we control the insurrection of innocence without obligation?
Seeing the destruction of days gone by, we welcome destruction with deception of vengeance.
Upon the shores of Black History, Loretta Lynch has united history with education and dignity.
Camden Yards made history within our history; what will Freddie Gray's history of memory be?
Where are we headed when our history is suffocated on the volcanos of flames of our nation?

April 29,2015